


Ever-Glowing Lights

by Metallic_Sweet



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dancing, Fire Magic, M/M, Politics, Post-War, True Love, dimiclaude gift exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metallic_Sweet/pseuds/Metallic_Sweet
Summary: After the war is won, Dimitri and Claude host a year-end feast at House Riegan.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	Ever-Glowing Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DucessaEva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DucessaEva/gifts).



The Great Hall of House Riegan is illuminated brightly by magical fire. 

Lamps large and small sparkle, and the warm flames are soft enough to be easy on the eyes but cast long enough reaches to fill even the furthest corner with light. The fire contained within the class and ornamental metal burns at a lower heat, making the fixtures safe to touch even when at the highest setting. There are controls by the head of the high table and the main entrances, and the panels are easy to operate and tell apart from the service pulleys. 

It is fundamentally different from mage Fire and the strange, ever-glowing lights that once lit Shambhala. The lighting system was a collaboration two hundred years before between the House Nuvelle, which was then at the height of its magical power and educational influence in Adestria, and House Riegan, which had been on the rise politically and financially. It has, to Claude’s knowledge, only been duplicated in the former seat of House Nuvelle, which is currently still under drastic repairs. Constance sends long, detailed updates to Claude, Dimitri, and Byleth, although Claude suspects only Edelgard, who restored the House Nuvelle at the end of the war, actually understands more than a quarter of her treatises. 

“I certainly don’t understand any of it,” Dimitri says as he finishes the roasted pheasant and sweet berry sauce on his dinner plate, sitting to Claude’s right at the high table. “But she fixed the parts that weren’t working here very quickly, didn’t she?” 

“In about thirty minutes,” Claude says, motioning to the main chandelier in the hall and the sconces closest to them. “I didn’t even know this room could be half as vibrant.” 

Dimitri looks up, wiping his mouth on his napkin as he squints. “That is very bright,” he says, quite smartly, before he observes with some wonder: “I think it’s even brighter than the candlelight was during the dancing the night we met on the Goddess Tower.” 

Claude cannot bear to suppress his smile. Dimitri glances at him and then hurriedly away, cheeks bright. He is still painfully given to blushing even after all they have gone through and all the time that has passed. It is incredibly endearing, especially dressed as he is in royal finery. It looks good on him, and the new armour free of the deep battle scars on his hereditary armour is a very welcome sight.

“Meeting on the Goddess Tower –”

“Shh,” Dimitri says, flushing an even deeper red. 

Claude tries his best to stifle the laugh that bubbles up. “We were not the only ones –”

“I am aware,” is the strained response as Dimitri’s eyes dart to where Linhardt and Caspar are leisurely eating and drinking, completely unaware that they nearly caught Dimitri and Claude sharing their first kiss when they noisily entered the Goddess Tower all those years ago. “We were nearly found out.” 

Claude’s meal is already comfortably digesting, and he watches the first dancers filtering out onto the floor with some interest. Among them are Sylvain and Petra, the latter of whom is already attempting to convince the minstrels to play a tune from Brigid. Those, in the past year, have caught on because the dances are high-energy and the music catchy. Claude himself is not particularly good yet with the Brigid language, but he is eager to learn more. The nascent alliance between Fodlan and Almyra will only benefit from growing its ties to Brigid and perhaps even Dadga. 

It also reminds Claude that, while they have been able to sit back after the initial toasts and enjoy dinner, he and Dimitri must make an appearance on the dance floor. Edelgard had to stay back in Enbarr this time because of some additional clean up related to Those Who Slither in the Dark because Hubert and Ferdinand are both off on their honeymoon on the Aegir Bay. The rumour is that it is a cottage commonly used by nobles and commoners alike as a romantic getaway, although Claude cannot imagine either Hubert or Ferdinand fitting into a cottage unless it has poisonous plants or horses to train nearby. 

Thus, it falls to Claude and Dimitri to make merry tonight. If nothing else, everyone should be encouraged to have a good time. They’ll need to be in a positive mood for tomorrow’s day-long merchant guild negotiations. 

He turns to Dimitri, putting on a jovial grin. Dimitri eyes him, clearly already guessing his direction but hoping it is not so. 

“We should dance,” Claude says, earning a predictably strained, almost pleading expression from Dimitri. “Come on! El’s depending upon us to foster and support the growth of camaraderie.” 

“That’s playing dirty,” Dimitri grumbles even as he begins to slide his chair back, gently enough it doesn’t snag on the carpet. “She is trusting us.” 

“I don’t know if she trusts me,” Claude says, rubbing his chin theatrically as he stands up as well; he sees eyes and head turning their way, expectations rising. “I will never recover from the shock that Hubert of all people does.” 

“That is still shocking,” Dimitri agrees, beet-red even as he extends his hand for Claude to take as they make their way down the three steps to the dance floor. “I never took Hubert for a fool.” 

“Oh, I am wounded!” Claude laughs as he takes the lead, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Dimitri’s waist. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Dimitri mumbles, dipping his head slightly in a fruitless bid to hide his deepening blush. 

Claude’s smile is so wide that it makes his ears ring. He reigns himself in as quickly as he is able, although he doubts any of the watching eyes missed that slip. Dimitri manages a shy, knowing smile in response. He tightens his grip on Claude’s hand as they continue their progress into the middle of the dance floor. Claude reached out and places his free hand upon Dimitri’s waist. Through the light armour and it’s leather ties, the heat of his body radiates against Claude’s palm.

“You’re making me have sweaty hands,” Claude teases, low but not so quietly that the several people nearest to them cannot overhear.

“I don’t think your hands have ever sweat in your life,” Dimitri mumbles, his smile smaller but more sincere. “You actually wanted to participate in the White Heron Cup, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh,” Claude says, and he laughs, both because the memories are good and it eases his tension as he begins to lead Dimitri in the waltz. “I love dancing, and I was interested in that special skill –”

“But you’re not particularly good with a sword,” Dimitri says, more than a little awkward in his attempt to tease.

“Ouch, my pride!” Claude declares before grinning and squeezing Dimitri’s hand as they turn in the dance. “I am perfectly good with my sword.”

“Claude,” Dimitri says, beet red again and looking down so he doesn’t accidentally glance at the onlookers. 

“It’s alright,” Claude says, half to console Dimitri and half because the music is swelling and he would like to have full attention to show off a little; to boost morale and good will for the night, he would claim if anyone asked. “If I had become the Dancer, you would have to share me with everyone.”

Dimitri looks at Claude with Fire in his eyes. He does not voice that they have to share each other in public and on the battlefield with duty and responsibility. They are ever more busy than they were during the war, focused upon capturing the last of Those Who Slither in the Dark, rebuilding Fódlan, and connecting it through Claude’s expertise to the world. Almyra was easier, due to Claude arranging troops and resources as soon as Byleth reappeared. Petra is hard at work to bring a Dadga delegation to the next major trade talk to be held in Enbarr, and Dimitri has his hands full with assisting Dedue in revitalising Duscur. Between and around them, there are so many factors that could keep them apart.

The song ends and immediately, if somewhat messily, transitions into Petra’s request. Dimitri releases his hold on Claude’s shoulder and Claude his waist, but they keep their hands entwined as the high, staccato notes of the new dance begin. More guests come onto the floor, and those unfamiliar with the dance copy their stance and movement. Beside the musicians, Petra grins and flashes them an approving fist pump.

“Right then,” Dimitri says, sotto voce before he throws himself and Claude into the dance. 

Claude laughs and follows. They have so many eyes upon them, but the speed and rigorousness of the dance help to shield Claude’s racing mind and Dimitri’s nerves. Other dancers have started laughing and talking, some unfamiliar with all of the dance steps and others so familiar that they’re eager to demonstrate their prowess. Claude knows they remain the centre of attention, but the pressure is beginning to disperse as more people get on from their meals and into the festivities.

It feels a little bit like they are getting married, which is not so absurd. 

Claude, spinning quickly with Dimitri by his side, does not mind that idea at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to connect with me on Twitter [@Metallic_Sweet](https://twitter.com/Metallic_Sweet).


End file.
